


Old Friends

by Dr_Fumbles_McStupid



Series: No peace without a passion [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 02:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15109580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Fumbles_McStupid/pseuds/Dr_Fumbles_McStupid
Summary: In which a mission went terribly wrong and Jedi knight Bakugo reunites with an old friend.





	Old Friends

**Author's Note:**

> So this story has been edited now. Huge thanks to the amazing mirachadoodles

 

_ That mission was a shit show, _ Bakugo thought as he downed his Corellian whiskey in one go. 

He slammed the glass onto the bar with a loud thud. The blonde didn't even know what number drink this was, but it certainly wasn't enough. He motioned for the bartender to bring another. 

When the Rodian sent a concerned glance his way, Katsuki bared his teeth and snarled.  _ What room did this asshole have to judge?  _ The man’s concerned expression quickly transitioned to fear as he turned to pour another whiskey straight. 

Bakugo let his head fall to rest on the dirty bar while he waited. His skull was feeling much too heavy, and the coolness of durasteel against his cheek was soothing. Mindlessly, he tilted the empty glass back and forth, watching light from passing hovercars flood the dilapidated bar window.  He was errantly surprised to noticed a small fracture in his glass; he hadn’t realized he’d slammed it down so hard. 

The clink of another glass hitting durasteel caught his attention, and his head swam as his gaze moved upward to focus on the new drink placed in front of him. He wobbled a bit in his chair as he reached for it, absently wondering if he should quit for the night.

But quitting wasn’t an option when he saw the image of Master Aizawa, crumpled in a pool of his own blood, behind his eyelids.  _ When had he even closed his eyes? _

He tipped his glass and focused on the burn of alcohol traveling down his throat, settling like iron in his gut.  He couldn’t stop thinking of the mission, replaying it  _ over and over _ in his head, his mind working overtime to consider every action he could have taken to prevent the horror that ensued. .

 

* * *

 

 

 

_ “Bakugo-- somehow they’ve detected us,” Master Aizawa was winded, but clearly focused, “I need you to make your way to the control room and get a copy of that data.”  _

 

_ His eyes moved expertly around the hall, working to parse out the best place for defence from the attack that was surely coming. _

 

_ “Like Kriff I will,” Bakugo barked. His partner turned to look at him, expression forcing Katsuki to take in the seriousness of the situation. His old master’s face was completely blank, totally devoid of the aggravation or amusement often making an appearance in response to his former student’s attitude.   _

 

_ The sober look caused an immediate knot to form in Katsuki’s gut. _

 

_ “Bakugo, that data is vital for the investigation I have been working on for five years. We need that data,” Aizawa’s voice was cool, hard durasteel.  _

 

_ “You’re the fucking shadow. Shouldn’t you be the one to get the data?” he snapped, “You always told me I was shit at stealth.”  _

 

_ A small, wry smile quirked Aizawa’s lips as placed his rough, worn hands on Bakugo’s shoulders, steadying him. _

 

_ “You are. But you won’t have to worry about moving quietly. I think everyone is already on their way,” the small smile became a vicious smirk, “and if they aren't, they sure as hell will be soon. Now  _ **_go._ ** _ ”  _

 

_ He pushed Katsuki away and turned back to handle what he knew was approaching. _

 

_ Katsuki turned and sprinted.  His breathing labored but steady, he forced his legs to move faster.  His partner needed this data. The council needed this data.  _

 

_ When the sound of blaster fire suddenly echoed along the walls, he turned to check on his old Master. There were at least five men rounding the corner, but Aizawa already wielded his  lightsaber, expertly deflecting blasts while simultaneously guiding capture gear from around his neck with the Force. Bakugo forgot sometimes that his old master was only a shadow because he enjoyed stealth missions. He could hold his own in battle just fine. _

 

* * *

 

 

The rundown Jedi dragged his hand through his spikey, tangled hair.

 

_ That was my first fucking mistake _ . 

 

Shouta could handle himself well enough in a fight, but prolonged battles were not his specialty. His master was best at swift sneak attacks, not fights requiring endurance. Although he’d graduated to Knighthood a good six cycles ago, it seemed that he hadn’t stopped thinking of Aizawa as an untouchable force. 

 

He didn’t stop to fucking consider that in all of the prolonged battles Aizawa had endured, he’d had Bakugo by his side. The Padawan’s pure strength made up for the Master’s lack of stamina. Katsuki’s affinity for Force explosions didn't hurt either. But like the stupid fucking fool he was, he left his partner there alone.

 

Bakugo tipped his head back and downed the remaining liquid in his glass.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Katsuki acquired the data they needed, not that he knew what the fuck it was.  _

 

_ These shadows and their weirdass secrecy. If he was going to help with the council’s damned mission, he should at least be informed as to what he was actually after. As he approached the dimly lit hallway where he left his partner, he recognized a distinct absence of blaster fire.  _

 

_ He breathed a sigh of relief, the tangle in his abdomen uncoiling.  It seemed Aizawa had taken care of the problem. _

 

_ He was rounding the final corner when he heard a sound forcing him to freeze, his heart jumping into his throat. White noise drowned his ears as he laid eyes on his destination. He took in Shouta’s form on the floor, limp, brow furrowed, teeth gritting in pain even as the remainder of his body refused to move.  Something crimson was pooling around him, covering more space by the second.  _

 

_ Blood. That was blood. A kriffing  _ **_lot_ ** _ of blood. _

 

_ He had seen his fair share of blood on missions. Hell, he had spilled his own fair share of it. But the sight of it had never stirred the storm of anger that was always sitting beneath the surface so thoroughly. _

 

_ He wrenched his gaze away to see three men swarming the Jedi Master. One of them had an old fashioned sword, rather than a vibroblade, plunged into the Shadow’s side.  The man was smiling viciously, uncaring of the blood that stained his uniform, turning the crisp grey to a murky black in splotches.  _

 

_ The young Jedi knew he should do something, anything to help his partner.  Instead, he stood frozen, hearing nothing but the rush of blood in his ears as his heart frantically responded to the adrenaline his body produced in his panic.   _

 

_ ‘Come on, MOVE,’ he pleaded with himself.  _

 

_ But he couldn’t even feel his feet, let alone move them.   _

 

_ The man with the sword twisted it sadistically, driving a scream from his Master yet again.   A roaring sound registered in Bakugo’s ears, and it was only once he was on the man that he realized the sound was coming from his own mouth. He felt anger pulsing around him, fueling him, pushing him to move faster. Just looking at the men who had hurt, possibly killed his master stoked the burning fire of his rage.  _

 

_ He allowed the tide of red to rise and rise until he lost himself in it. _

 

* * *

 

 

_ He came back to himself when he felt something grab his boot. He jerked his leg from the grasp, raising one hand to ready an explosion, the other gripping his lightsaber, only to find Aizawa’s scarred hand now lying limply on the tile.  _

 

_ “Katsuki, don’t,” he croaked, the noise barely a whisper from where his face lay pressed against the durasteel floor.  _

 

_ “What?” Katsuki turned from his Master to see what he was being advised not to do. His stomach lurched at the scene around him.  _

 

_ His hand shot to his mouth as he took in the corpse of the man who had stabbed his master, a burning crater directly through his chest, eyes wide and mouth gaping.  The man to his left was still alive, but his lower body ended beneath the hips, legs clearly blown off from some major explosion; he was sobbing and trying to crawl out of the way. The last mercenary was unconscious, barely recognizable as human, with severe burns destroying much of his skin, the remains blistering and bleeding onto the smooth silver surface beneath him.  _

 

_ Had.. had he done this? _

 

_ He couldn’t remember, the last thing in his mind was all consuming rage. He fell to his hands and knees, gasping, on the verge of hyperventilation. The room spun.  His chest was tight. Sweat dripped from his forehead with nearly equal vigour as the burning tears beginning to drag from the corners of his eyes. He had been angry before, he was almost always angry, but he had never lost himself to it like that. He had never done something like.. what was before him.  _

 

_ Sparks burst forth from his palms, in an uncontrolled display of the Force he hadn't allowed since he was a youngling. The heat against his palms was grounding, pulling him back from the precipice he was teetering on. He reigned the panic in and sucked a deep breath.  _

 

_ Inhale.  Exhale. Repeat.   _

 

_ ‘FUCK.  Okay, Katsuki.  Get your shit together. Think, damnit.’  _

 

_ He had the data.  The mission was complete.  He needed to.. he needed to grab his master and get to their ship-- quickly before reinforcements can arrive.  _

 

_ He bent forward and gingerly wrapped his arms beneath the shadow’s knees and back, pulling a slack arm around his shoulders and carefully cradling him against his chest. Tears of anger, frustration, and --he didn't want to admit it-- fear, sprung from his eyes as his Master groaned in his arms.  _

 

* * *

 

 

God, everything was so fucked up. 

 

 

* * *

 

  
  


_ Aizawa was in critical condition in the healer’s ward. They did what they could with force healing and put him in a Bacta tank. But the healers had been vague about when they could expect his Master to wake. He knew it was because they didn’t know  _ **_if_ ** _ he would wake up.  _

 

_ Then there was the kriffing council. They called on him to report immediately. When he tried to refuse, staying by Shouta’s side until he was in the Bacta tank, he was nagged by a stupid fucking messenger. His shouts of defiance had the damn messenger shaking in his boots, but the dumb kid still had council backing, and Katsuki knew he’d be dragged away, explosions and all, if he neglected to comply. _

 

_ ‘Fucking heartless bastards,’ Katsuki grit his teeth so hard it hurt.  _

 

_ The council couldn’t give him even an hour to compose himself before the report.  They had done it as a fucking power play. They already had the data chip. He had given it to someone the moment he entered the temple. He had finished the kriffing mission. But that wasn’t enough for them.  _ **_He_ ** _ wasn’t enough for them. _

 

_ He knew that many of the members of the council were wary of his behavior, or outright dislike him for his issues controlling his anger. A small voice in the back of his head pointed out that maybe they were right to worry after what had happened today, but he viciously pushed it aside before the thought could take root.  _

 

_ He stood, back straight and head high, as he gave his report to the council, blood wet against his palms as his fists clenched and ragged nails broke skin. But he needed the pain to keep himself from snapping at the dumbass questions being posed. By the time they were done, he was shaking with barely-contained anger. It was all he could do to shield it from the room, but from the looks Master Windu and Yoda shared, he knew they could read it in his body language. He stormed from the room and went somewhere to forget. _

 

* * *

 

Which had brought him here, to a dingy kriffing club on the lower levels of Coruscant that he couldn't even remember the name of. It was a place out of the way where no one would pay any mind to a Jedi getting drunk out of his fucking mind. Plus the alcohol was cheap. 

 

Katsuki scoffed, admiring the moon-shaped scabs forming on the volar aspect of his hands.  As a youngling, he never thought  _ this _ would be the life of a Jedi. His dream of traveling around the galaxy, righting wrongs and protecting the innocent, was so far from what he was actually doing. 

 

With a growl, he let the glass drop from his hand before pounding his fist into the durasteel bar. He looked down and to find it dented.  His hand ached. 

 

“You know, the bartender has been eyeing you the whole night, and now that you've actually snapped and damaged something in his bar, I’m pretty sure he is calling security to kick you out.” 

 

Bakugo startled at the words, almost falling off of his stool in his haste to look at the stranger. The only reason he maintained his position was because the grey cloaked speaker had quickly grabbed him around the waist, holding held him steady. 

 

“Be careful,” the stranger said softly, voice laced in mirth, “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself now would you?”

 

His face was obscured by his hood and the darkness of the club, but his voice sounded warm and teasing. It only served to piss Bakugo off further.

 

“Fuck off,” he growled, standing from his stool and shoving the stranger’s hands off him. His angry provided enough focus to be more steady on his feet now, and he had had enough of this shit hole.  He’d downed enough alcohol to drown a fish, and it clearly hadn't washed away his problems. 

 

He strode towards the door only to be stopped in his tracks when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder.  He growled.

 

“Is that any way to treat an old friend?” the assailant asked..

 

Bakugo snapped. He spun around and grabbed the man’s shirt to shove him up against the wall. The man was heavier than he’d expected, dense, but moved willingly with Katsuki’s push. 

 

Puzzled and pissed off, he looked up, ready to deck the bastard, when a pair of familiar green eyes met his.

 

“Hi Kachan.”

 

Bakugo froze.

 

_ “Deku?” _


End file.
